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___ The fog was thick and damp, swathing her surroundings in streams of insubstantial gray cotton. She couldn’t see further than ten feet in front of her and that grew even less as the fading light spoke of the setting sun. She smiled slightly, hidden in the collar of her jacket, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. The light wasn’t needed, not really; where its loss might have weakened others – would weaken her foes – it meant nothing to her. Behind her, tucked safely under the ledge of a rock, her teammate lay unconscious; his shock when she knocked him out like the taste of sweat-salt on the back her tongue. She whispered an unheard apology as her hands moved in familiar seals. Where she didn’t trust herself to guide him and keep him from harm, she would trust herself to bear the pain her mistakes might bring. A final seal and the cloaking gloom – the trees, the rocks, all things between her and her target -- grew translucent as glass. She saw them, four in all, armed and back to back against the dangers hidden in the fog. Against her. Her heart quivered, once. Her hand shook around her knife, briefly. And then she ran, light foot and silent, the world laid open by her one great strength.
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